Hostage
by bubblesquirt
Summary: A different take on how Kramer handles Jake.


Jake is led to his room with his arm still twisted behind his back. He doesn't try to wrestle out of the man's grasp; he knows there's nowhere to go.

When the man shoves him inside his room, Jake takes a second to rotate the feeling back into his sore shoulder. He doesn't turn around but he knows his captor is there. When he hears the soft click of his door closing, Jake finally turns, trying not to let the terror of being stuck alone in a room with one of them show on his face.

They stand facing each other for a minute, the silence stretching and stretching and feeling like the longest minute of Jake's life. At least in the basement, he could feel his sister's presence, hear his Dad's soft murmurs of encouragement.

Jake pulls his gaze up from the carpet between them and sneaks a look at his abductor's face. He can barely make eye contact with the bearded man before looking back down. He exhales through his nose, trying to breathe through his nausea.

He swallows past the bile threatening to overtake him and finally breaks the silence.

"What do you want?"

It's the scariest question in the world because Jake doesn't want to know the answer. He already knows why they're doing this, why they are here. But now this man is in his room, staring at _him, _alone with _him_, and he doesn't know what to think of that. Except that he probably isn't going to like the answer.

The man takes a step forward and it takes every ounce of effort for Jake not to jump out of his skin. His heart is beating too fast and it feels like it's going to burst out of his chest. He concentrates on just breathing.

"You work out?"

Out of all the things Jake expected him to say, this isn't even in the top 100. Jake can't hold back a noise of disbelief, his feet beginning to back him away from this monster that's holding his family hostage.

"Tae kwon do, right? Every Thursday. That along with lacrosse. You're a busy boy." He's slowly making his way toward Jake as he talks, hand resting on the gun at his hip. He catches Jake's gaze on his weapon and finishes his way across the room.

There's nowhere for Jake to go, his bed post is right behind him now. He wants to know how long they've been following him, how much they know, but he can't speak past the panic in his chest. He's looking at the floor again, unable to face what's right in front of him. He flinches when the man takes his gun out of his holster, holding it by his side. Inside his head, Jake is back in that basement, tied, blindfolded and gagged, waiting to listen as one of his family members is murdered right next to him. He clears his throat, making a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whimper before he repeats his question.

"What do you want?" Jake feels like a small kid next to this man, like he's going to be scolded for not eating all his veggies or for dragging mud into the house.

When Jake looks up, the man is smiling down at him. The man runs his tongue over his front teeth before speaking.

"Right to business then. I like that. Take off your shirt."

Now he has Jake's full attention, his jaw drops as his mind threatens to explode. It's been less than an hour since their leader had ordered Jake to take his shirt off, and it was happening again?

"What? No…I…"

Jake jumps as the man brings the gun up, but instead of pointing it at him, the man uses the weapon to scratch behind his own ear.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you." The man is teasing him, he knows, but Jake can't stop his hands from shaking. Hell, his whole body is vibrating with the need to shove his way out of his room, but there's nowhere to go. He can see the nails in his window from where he's standing.

His captor speaks before Jake can swallow past his terror.

"I need to check your bandage." He says with a smile.

Now Jake is shaking his head, in disbelief and denial that this is happening. Again.

"Take it off. Now. Or maybe I should slip into your sister's room and help check hers instead."

With the threat hanging between them, Jake realizes he doesn't have a choice. He quickly rips his shirt from his skin, feeling a sick sort of déjà vu as he throws it to the floor.

The man is nodding his head in approval and flicks his gun hand. "Turn around."

Jake takes a few deep breaths and does what he's told. He bites down on the inside of cheek to stop from saying the wrong thing, and tastes blood on his tongue. He's cold and he feels the beginning of tears prick behind his eyes. He squeezes them shut, trying to block everything out for a second.

He flinches away when he feels the gunman's hand on his back, gently peeling away the bandage that had only been applied an hour ago. Jake's hands are fisted at his side, trying to hide his shaking digits. The bandage is slowly peeled off, and any hair that wasn't already standing straight up on Jake's skin is by now. He feels the man's four fingers gently glide down his shoulder, over his stitches, over to his spine. Jake shivers and he's unable to keep the sound of discomfort from breaking free. He quickly traps his lips between his teeth in an effort to gain control of himself and bows his head.

"Hey, relax." He can feel the man's breath on his neck. And then the hand is back except now it's at his waist and it's snaking around toward his navel and Jake's first reaction is to fight back. His body is thanking him as he finally puts his years of practice to use and attacks his captor.

But no amount of practice or skill can help Jake at this moment, because the man is too close to him, he's bigger, stronger, and, oh yeah, he has a gun.

Jake's knees crash into the carpet, his hands surrounding his crushed, bleeding nose. It feels like a bomb exploded in his face and even though he's definitely not getting up any time soon, his abductor tackles him to the ground.

Jake lets out a shout and tries to wiggle free, but there's a hand on his neck and the man is sitting on his back and Jake has to fight past the feeling that he's suffocating. He can't breathe and he's going to die in his room with this maniac and-

His door is suddenly open and everything stops. No movement, just harsh breathing. Jake can't see who it is from his position, and the hand on the back of his neck squeezes in warning.

"What the hell is happening in here?" It's their leader, the one in charge. Jake deflates, wishing he could melt into the carpet.

"He went for my gun, boss."

Jake breathes out of his nose, blood flowing freely, and feels like crying at the unfairness of the situation.

There's a slight pause where he feels like he's being studied before, "Stay with him tonight."

"Sure thing, boss."

Jake can hear the smile in his voice. He can only breathe through his mouth now, and his breaths are coming faster and faster, and Jake's going to hyperventilate if this psycho doesn't get the hell away from him.

"Get offa me." He manages to breathe into the carpet, suppressing the urge flail his limbs and risk getting pistol whipped again.

"Ahh!" His arm is being twisted behind his back for the second time that night and Jake holds his breath against the pain.

"Sh, sh, sh…" The man places his gun on the floor next to Jake's head and uses his free hand to ruffle his hair. He readjusts his position on Jake's back and leans down to speak directly into his ear.

"Looks like it's just you and me, kid."


End file.
